Therapy
by TeaOli
Summary: After the Enterprise returns to Earth, Christopher Pike must learn a new way to use his body. Pike/OC. Heavily revised Chapter 6 now up.
1. Faith

**Warning:** Please do not read any further is you are following Aphrodite420's _Unification_ and have not yet read Chapter 19.

* * *

_Move, damn it!_

"Are you in pain, sir?"

Christopher Pike kept his eyes squeezed shut, his face contorted into a grimace. It would easier if it hurt. Pain would mean all this was working. Pain would mean he was healing. Pain would mean hope. All he felt was pressure — the heavy weight of his right leg against the training table's padding. A good sign, everyone said. But no one would go so far as to say "pressure" could be translated into "You're going to walk again." He couldn't feel his left leg, held aloft in the physical therapist's sturdy hands and pushed back against his chest, at all.

He gritted his teeth against the effort, shaking his head even as the angry thought _Move, damn it!_ refused to make its way from his brain to his thigh and calf muscle. The left leg twitched, its movement involuntary. Useless. Pike knew the feeling. The leg was about as useful as a lame starship captain, and the other one wasn't much better.

_Move, you fucker!_ By now, he was screaming silently, veins popping out in his face and forearms. Nothing happened. He hadn't been expecting it to. Hope was pain and the most he felt was pressure.

After another ten minutes of sweaty frustration, the PT announced the end of their hour. Pike took perverse pleasure in knowing that two months of therapy had thickened the muscles in his arms and shoulders enough so that the stocky therapist had to strain to ease him off the table.

He could have gotten into the chair himself, but regs were regs and he was tired of protesting. Tired of claiming an independence that wasn't much more than show, anyway. Tired of the daily treatments that were supposed to repair his nerves. Tired of training that was supposed to teach him to reuse muscle and bone he could barely feel because the treatments didn't work for him.

He was tired of everything. He was almost tired of living.

"I can get back to my cell — I mean my _room_ — on my own."

The PT didn't protest. But, then, regs were regs and none of them said he couldn't return to the fake Twenty-first Century "luxury suite" that served as his home at the rehabilitation center unescorted.

.

"Chris, it's time to think about a frame."

Pike had come to his room expecting to be alone with his fury and his frustration. He'd wanted a pity party for one that would leave him pissed off enough — at Nero, at Centaurian slugs, at physicians and physical therapists and psychiatrists the universe over... but at himself more than anyone else — to begin the fight against his body all over again in the morning.

He didn't want to be having this conversation.

"No." He refused to look at the earnest young shrink standing in his room, wringing her hands.

"The frame would mean independence. It would mean giving up that chair. Getting on with your life. With a frame, you could even have ship—"

"No," he repeated as he levered himself out of the chair, onto the bed.

Agreeing to the neural-orthotic supporter — commonly called a 'frame'— meant permanently fusing his nerves and bone to a chrytoium cage with electronic sensors that would do his feeling and walking for him. It meant giving up. By winnowing away the need, regenerative medicine had slowed research and progress in the fields of both orthotics and neuroprosthetics. Once the comparatively crude operation was over, there would be no going back.

"Captain…" she began and his head snapped around so fast she swallowed her words. But her eyes were wide and pleading.

"Haven't you heard?" he asked, and the sarcastic snarl made her take a step back. He didn't regret it for a nanosecond. "It's '_Admiral_.' Or it will be in a week. No more ships. Frame or no frame. And it's definitely no fucking frame, understand?"

Helen Noel seemed to find her spunk again after his outburst. "Fine, then," she said, smiling and he could tell she meant it. "No frame talk yet. There's something else I'd like you to try if I can convince the nerve jockeys to give it a chance."

Christopher used the bar hanging over his bed to drag himself up. "What do you have up your sleeve, Hel?"

She shook her head, backing out of the room. "Not yet, Old Man. Maybe you want to talk to your other 'orphan' about it," she said cryptically. "I don't want to say more until I understand it better myself."

.

.

T'Shan moved purposefully through the halls of the embassy. They were more crowded now than they once had been. San Francisco was more crowded than it had been twenty-eight years ago. The Earth city had become the main gathering point for the remaining Vulcans and the embassy was its nexus.

She passed clerks armed with PADDs full of—she knew—data considered too sensitive to be sent through the electronic systems. The heavily muscled guards that accompanied one gave them away. While there was little chance that the clerks would be accosted inside the embassy building, the Elders had learned in the most horrifying way possible that there was no such thing as "overly cautious."

Survivors of her world's destruction had been the first, but now — three months later — members of Vulcan's few colonies and the few hundred Vulcan that had been assigned work on various other planets continued to arrive. There were more every day. The High Council's latest report included a calculation that the flow of newcomers would not abate for at least a Sol year.

A long-faced woman in Terran clothing nodded at her. T'Shan silently returned the greeting. There were rumors that even v'tosh ka'tur had heeded the call to unite and were to be made welcome. Though no one spoke of it openly, she did not doubt it. The groups of Vulcans she'd seen in these halls were far more diverse than it had ever been before. It was only logical to accept them all; everyone who was willing was needed.

Most rishsular — survivors — remained in San Francisco. Others who heeded the call settled nearby. All who the Elders did not require to return to their assignments or colonies — and there were very few of those — needed housing and tasks to order their days. They grieved, yes, but it was not the Vulcan way to indulge in it. And it was not the Vulcan way to accept charity in any matter they could tend to themselves.

There was much to accomplish. Already, this other, ancient Spock had found a planet he believed would be appropriate for building a new homeworld. If her people were to be ready to make their new home into a successful reality, everyone must cooperate. No skill, however small, was useless to the future they faced. All Vulcans would be needed to rebuild their race.

Which was why she did not understand what the Elders had asked of her.

She halted before the door to Osu Sarek's office. It was the same office[so she had been told,] he'd occupied before the S'chn T'gai household had returned to Vulcan twenty-eight Solar years ago. Without waiting to announce herself, she entered the code Osu Sarek had given to her alone. If he did not wish to speak with her at this time, the door would not open.

.

"Osu," she said, "I am not unwilling to do as the Elders have ordered; I merely wish to better understand why I have been chosen, and what, precisely, is expected of me."

Sarek raised an eyebrow. His gaze remained steady. "You are mistaken," he told her. "I and Spock chose you for this task, but it is a request. You have not been ordered to do anything."

T'Shan did not make any outward sign of acknowledgment at this clarification, but her mind was still filled with questions. Some of them, she realized, must be asked and answered before she could accept.

"Why this human?" she wanted to know. "And why me instead of a healer?"

Sarek answered her second question first. "In our time of need, it would be illogical to ask one of our healers to attempt to guide a human through a process that differs very little from what any Vulcan parent should be able to teach his or her child."

She did not wince at the word "parent" or "child", though a pang lanced her side. But a sudden memory of Satuvek as she had last seen him alive, eight years old and leaving for his kahs'wan was nearly her undoing.

"Furthermore," the ambassador continued in a gentler tone, as if he sensed her distress, "your experience with both my wife and my son make you a more reasonable choice."

There was another long pause. The memory of Amanda, so recently lost, was as painful for both of them as Satuvek's death had been for T'Shan and Selenik.

Sarek recovered first, straightening his shoulders and leaning forward. "Our people owe this man a great deal. If it was not for Christopher Pike's decision — based almost solely on the deductions of a disgraced cadet he himself recruited for Starfleet — to approach our planet with a caution his counterparts in Starfleet lacked, it is unlikely that I or any of the Elders would have survived. The Katric Arch would most certainly have been lost. We are in this man's debt."

"He also guided Spock through his first years at the Academy." Sarek did not speak again for half a minute. "My desire to help this man is based in emotion, T'Shan. I will understand if you choose to have no part in this."

The admission was a weighty one, she knew. He could have omitted his confession. He could have ordered her to do as she was bidden. Clearly, Osu Sarek wanted her to aid this human willingly. It was also the desire of young Spock. T'Shan realized there was no real choice in the matter.

"It will be as you wish, Osu," she said quietly.

.

.

"Son, why do I get the feeling I'm missing something here? A _house_keeper is your big solution? I mean, I know she was something like a grandmother to you, but still. What makes you think she'll succeed where the best doctors Starfleet has to offer have failed?"

"As I have already explained, sir, T'Shan's duties extended well beyond directing my father's servants in the care of his household. She—" The admiral's expression told Spock another argument was needed. He began again. "Of the remaining Vulcans, T'Shan is perhaps the most qualified person for the task. This method employs basic healing techniques that are known to almost all of my people. Very little formal medical training is necessary. T'Shan, however, has extensive experience dealing with humans. Therein lies her expertise."

"Dealing with humans, huh?"

"My mother was quite… fond of her, sir. T'Shan was of great assistance to her not only during her adjustment to marriage to a Vulcan, but also during her pregnancy with me."

"Spock, correct me if I'm wrong, but by the time your mother met your father, she'd already lost her parents, right?"

"That is correct. However, if you mean to suggest that Mother's affection for T'Shan lay only in her own motherless state, I should let you know that Lieutenant Uhura also holds T'Shan in high esteem. And M'Umbha Uhura, as you know, is very much alive."

Christopher started to point out that Amanda Grayson and Nyota Uhura were both women who'd chosen Vulcan mates, but decided against it.

"Never mind, Spock," he said. "Do you think it will work?"

The young commander stared at the floor a moment before meeting Pike's eyes. "I do not know, but evidence suggests that before humans became so entirely dependent on what is called modern medicine, traditional healers had some success employing similar methods in the treatment of their patients."

Pike held Spock's determined gaze for a long time before coming to a decision. "Fine," he said. "Tell Granny I'm willing to give her a try."

.

.

Spock was quiet as he walked beside T'Shan. He had already answered what questions he could. More answers would have to wait for Helen and for Christopher himself. He paused before his former captain's door, motioning for T'Shan to halt, as well.

"His temperament is quite... different from Mother's and Nyota's."

T'Shan raised a brow, but said nothing.

"Doctor Noel knows him as well as I do and will do what she can to assist you — not only with any questions you might have about human physiology or psychology, but also with anything you might wish to know about the man, himself."

This time, she nodded. "Shall we enter, nu'ri-veh?"

A wave of affection swept over Spock at being called "young one." After one more glance at the older Vulcan, he pushed open the door.

.

The man called Christopher was lying back against his pillows, hands clutching a bar suspended above his bed. T'Shan watched as he slowly pulled his torso up, then lowered it down again. From the waist up, he appeared impressively fit. His muscles flexed and relaxed as he repeated these actions another six times before he spoke.

"Spock," he said without looking towards the door. "I guess you're here to tell me when you'll be bringing Granny to meet me."

The young one opened his mouth to speak, but T'Shan held up a hand to silence him.

"'Granny' is here now, Admiral Pike," she said as she stepped forward. "If you are finished exercising your body, perhaps we can commence exercising your mind."

At last the man turned to look at them. His face, though covered in alien perspiration, was intriguing. The irregular features were arranged in an oddly pleasing manner. His expression, mouth slightly agape, dark eyes moving back and forth between her and Spock, was unreadable.

"Fascinating," Spock murmured beside her.

* * *

**A/N:** T'Shan is an original character created by Aphrodite420. With her permission (and close supervision!) , I'm attempting to give her greatest creation the story such a wonder character deserves. For more T'Shan goodness, read Aphrodite420's Unification at /s/5681535/1/Unification.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, any of its characters and T'Shan is solely the creation of the fic writer known as Aphrodite420.


	2. Beginnings

Pike stared at the woman standing next to his former first officer. He took in the regal face that carried only the faintest hint of the decades it must have weathered. The dark hair that would surely hang past her shoulders if she let it down. The even darker eyes that seemed to see right through him. _Stunning_. No other word accurately described what he was seeing. Attractive didn't capture the way his breath and heart and thoughts had all stilled when he'd turned his head at the sound of her smooth yet precise voice. Beautiful couldn't account for the way he suddenly craved her approval. Gorgeous just didn't seem fitting for a Vulcan.

He'd been stunned. Still was.

"Admiral?" she prompted, and he realized he was also gawping, slack-jawed as a thirteen-year-old looking at his first elicit holos.

_Yeah,_ he thought, annoyed and embarrassed in equal measure, _way to impress her_.

"Madam," he said aloud. "Sorry about that. Spock here told me you'd practically raised Ambassador Sarek and him too, pretty much, so naturally…" He let the sentence trail off, but neither she nor the Starfleet commander jumped in with reassurances. "Uh, sorry," he repeated, lamely.

The Vulcan beauty didn't change expression and Christopher had to remind himself that it wasn't the way of her people to storm off in a huff.

She simply said, "Wisdom often comes with age, Admiral."

Unsure whether her apparent non sequitur — and he knew enough to know Vulcans never indulged in _true_ non sequiturs — was meant as a way out or a rebuke, he decided to treat it as the former.

Smiling, he said, "Which is probably why Spock and his father believe you can help me."

Too late, he realized that his words might give offense, but she was nodding her head and saying, "If you are ready to begin, we shall explain what I will do, and what we hope to achieve."

.

"So, wait you're _not _going to reconnect my nerves to my brain?"

T'Shan mastered her impatience and, for the third time, replied in the negative.

Although she and Spock had simplified their explanation as best they could, the human admiral failed to comprehend what she would be attempting to help him achieve. He was not a touch telepath, and therefore had no frame of reference from which to draw understanding of Vulcan training methods. Human biology, not Pike himself, was at fault.

"The neural-regenerator was successful in causing the nerves damaged during your surgery to repair themselves," Spock told his mentor, also for the third time.

"I _get_ that," Pike said in turn. The anger and frustration evident in his voice was disconcerting, but T'Shan had become accustomed to such displays during her years serving his protégé's parents. "What I _don't_ get is how reading my thoughts is supposed to accomplish what the damned physicians couldn't do through so-called modern medicine!"

_Ah._ She understood. A glance at Spock told her he did, as well. She also suspected he was contemplating whether or not further revelation was warranted.

Surely, however, it would be allowed — even expected — in this instance. She knew even as she thought this that the matter was not so simple. Osu Sarek maintained that in order to survive, Vulcans must change some of their ways. Others, many of whom also served on the High Council, did not agree. Yet. Only time would show whether or not their minds could be changed.

Admiral Pike did not have a great deal of time. If this experiment did not work, he would either be relegated to living out the rest of his life confined to a mobile chair, or he would submit to surgery to implant the neural-orthotic supporter. She had done extensive research into his condition before coming to this meeting. There were no other options available.

"Admiral," T'Shan said, stepping towards his bed. The scent of his perspiration wafted across her olfactory organ. Surprisingly, she did not find it unpleasant. "I will not be required to 'read your thoughts' in order to perform this procedure." She glanced at Spock again before moving closer and proceeding. "There are many things which my people have not told offworlders. What we shall try to do now has its origins in one of those secrets."

Through her peripheral vision she observed Spock walking towards the room's only window. His back was stiff — whether with discomfort or with censure, she was unsure — but she kept her attention focused on the human before her. That the young Vulcan had stepped away was acceptance enough.

"Spock has told you that Vulcans are, to some extent, self-healers," she told Pike. "The ability to alter one's state of consciousness for therapeutic purposes is innate, but not always intuitive. Children who have difficulty… sensing injury on a cellular level are identified early and it is incumbent upon their parents to guide them through the process of repairing damage.

"My… son was such a child, as was Spock. I helped them both learn to heal themselves." T'Shan waited, already searching for new words in case the admiral still failed to understand. Speaking of Satuvek pained her. Even thinking of him threatened to bring back memories she preferred to keep at bay.

"You're going to help me see what's wrong inside of me — why the electricity is off, even though the wires have been repaired?"

Although she understood what he was attempting to convey, T'Shan did not answer at first. She found it intriguing that he would use such a comparison to, perhaps, distance himself from the process. But when Pike began to speak again — most likely to rephrase — she cut him off. "That is an accurate analogy."

The human nodded. Just before he turned away, she saw that his face was devoid of expression. She wondered if he had ever studied any of the human ascetic traditions.

"Okay, then, Lady T'Shan," Pike said without facing her again.

"Only T'Shan," she corrected as she advanced the final meter to his bedside.

"T'Shan," he echoed, his eyes trained on Spock.

"I will touch only your peripheral nervous system, but to do so, I must also touch you. Please raise your head." He nodded and complied, but did not speak again. "A mind meld would require a different technique," T'Shan explained as she placed her fingers against the back of his head.

.

In spite of everything Spock and the Vulcan woman claimed, Christopher waited for the brush of a foreign mind against his. He wasn't even sure what he meant by that.

But there was no invasion. No sense of his mind splintering into two. No shattering of that ineffable, unnamed _thing_ that made him Christopher Pike and no one else.

Instead, he felt… everything. He couldn't say how long the experience lasted, but he was certain he never wanted it to end.

Every beat of his heart became a complex dance of muscle and blood, every molecule of air flowing over his skin became distinct.

Hair and fingernails growing, oxygen being exchanged for carbon dioxide. Veins carrying exhausted blood back to his lungs. Cells dying as new ones were born. From the top of his head to the end of his torso, it was all there for him to know, to experience.

Beyond that, there was nothing.

T'Shan's fingers left his head and his world contracted again. The extraordinary cognizance receded and he mourned its loss. At the same time, he was relieved that the contrast between what he _could_ feel and what he couldn't was also dulled.

Breathing almost eluded him, his chest was so tight. He didn't know if it was from fear… or from anticipation.

"Your body is sound," she told him. He was dimly aware that she still stood at his side. "The damage has been repaired properly. You must only learn to follow the pathways again."

Her stark assessment snatched him back. Fully alert, he turned his head to watch her face. "Only?"

"It is a beginning," she said.

"But can we continue?" he wanted to know. "And will we succeed?"

"We will continue. I will return after you have completed your physical therapy tomorrow."

He wondered if her noncommittal response was due to Vulcan logic, or if it was because she didn't believe this "therapy" would work.

.

.

Although he did not remove his attention from the hover-car controls, Spock was acutely mindful of his passenger's discomfort as they maneuvered above San Francisco's wet streets. After twelve minutes of tense silence had elapsed, he addressed the woman who had helped raise him.

"You ended the skasaya prematurely," he observed.

"Your admiral is a human,' T'Shan pointed out. "Before today, he had no idea the healing meld existed."

"All the more reason for him to require a kakhartausu t'nohv."

"I will continue to guide him," she promised. "But it is better to introduce him to our ways slowly. The hakau-nohv can be difficult, even with Vulcan children."

They both fell silent again. While Spock continued to glide the car towards her residence, T'Shan contemplated the healing meld she had shared with his mentor.

Linking with the human had been simpler than one might expect. He was nearly psi-null and, by Vulcan standards, out of tune with his body. It was perhaps these very deficiencies that had eased her exploration of his nervous system and then the rest of the physical manifestation of Christopher Pike.

There had been no resistance. She was unsure if his conscious mind had been aware of her presence. Finding out would require touching his mind, and that was something she preferred to avoid. His body was unsettling enough.

He believed himself broken, unable to function below his waist. His body knew better, even if it could not relay that information to his conscious mind. His _body_ had known she was there and had reacted accordingly.

It was fortunate that Spock's back had remained turned until that first hakau-nohv was complete.

.

.

.

Helen Noel fell in step next to the chair as Pike exited the torture chamber.

"How'd it go yesterday?" Her hands were tucked behind her back in a futile attempt to appear clinical, but the smile she was trying fight ruined the effect.

He treated the pretty psychiatrist to a long, shrewd gaze before smiling wryly. "You tell me," he said, adjusting his legs in the chair. "I'm sure you and Spock were on the comm as soon as he got back to his quarters."

"Just goes to show you're not always right!" Noel laughed and eased behind him. Probably to make sure he couldn't see her face. He twisted in the seat to glare at her.

"You know these blinks and beeps are supposed to let you know this thing can go all by itself. What did he tell you last night?"

"What?" She snatched her hands off the mobile's back and held them up in a parody of surrender. "He's spending every moment he can with his girlfriend, right now."

Facing forward again, Christopher felt like hiding his own face. He slumped a little in the chair as they made their way down the quiet corridor, letting his mind mull over the events of the past few months. And then he let memory take him back further. To a time when he'd been fearless and exploring the stars had meant so much he'd sold Starfleet to just about every promising young person he met.

Before one of them had been forced to watch his world evaporate.

Helen's "I didn't hear from him until this morning" lifted him out of his melancholy reverie.

"And what did he have to say?"

She laughed again, the sound reminiscent of happier times.

"He said that T'Shan is optimistic enough to want to keep trying."

They halted at the door to his room, and the doctor stepped aside so that her onetime mentor could wheel himself in first. She followed behind, smiling to herself.

Pike lifted himself onto the bed, belatedly thinking that he should have showered first. He was about to reach for the bar, to lever himself up and back into the chair when he noticed Helen's mischievous smile.

"What?"

"He also said you made an ass of yourself in front of his 'Granny' and that your behavior probably killed whatever tiny chance you had of doing anything about that crush you've got going."

Scoffing, to hide a smile, Chris tried to look stern. He failed. "Spock didn't say any such thing."

"Well, not in so many words."

With a wink, she plopped into the chair beside his bed.

.

.

The admiral was not alone. T'Shan heard the raised voices behind the thick door from six meters away. She quickened her steps and entered without announcing herself.

"Think of Spock, Hel!" she heard Pike shout. "He's trying to cram a lifetime of loving into whatever time he's got left. Is that how you want to end up living? Snatching what happiness you can, _when_ you can because you're afraid of what tomorrow is going to throw at you? Because that's what you'll be signing up for if you stay. Space is dangerous."

A dark-haired human woman stood over the admiral's bed. "The whole universe is dangerous," she said quietly. T'Shan couldn't see her face, but she heard the exasperation — perhaps overlaid with affection — in her familiar voice. "You can't protect us all, Chris. Not even if none of us ever left Earth again."

Doctor Noel took a breath, as if preparing to say more, but the admiral turned his head and noticed T'Shan standing by the now-closed door.

Spinning around, the young woman quickly rearranged her features into a smile.

"T'Shan!" she greeted. "Maybe _you_ can talk some sense into him."

The nature of the disagreement was clear. T'Shan was not surprised to learn that Christopher Pike would wish to ensure the safety of his protégée. She did not wish to take part in their argument, but experience told her that a voice of reason must sometimes come from an outside source.

"Doctor Noel," she said, nodding. "If I understand correctly, Admiral Pike's concerns extend to many of the cadets he has mentored. Given his recent experiences, his feelings are… understandable." She turned to address the patient. "Doctor Noel is also correct, however. Danger can be found anywhere in the universe. If we were all to allow knowledge of that to hamper our endeavors, there would be no progress."

The mind healer looked pointedly at the grim-faced admiral. Both women waited for his response, but when one finally came, it was directed at Helen Noel.

"Don't you have some heads to shrink?"

Noel smiled, using only her mouth, then left without speaking again. The very real fear and anguish in the admiral's eyes as he watched her go was telling. An idea formed in T'Shan's mind. One she hesitated to explore, but she had promised to help this man. If this was what she must do….

"There is little sense in asking Doctor Noel to leave her post." She walked away from the door and sat in the chair beside the bed. "I had a son. My husband and I worried about his safety, but knew we could not hinder his… aspirations."

Pike looked away from the door for the first time since the doctor's exit. "Had?" The apprehension in his expression deepened.

T'Shan took a steadying breath before she replied. "He died and grieving him destroyed my husband's mind." She stared at the admiral, forcing herself not to fall into the well of sorrow that threatened whenever she thought of Satuvek and of what had become of Selenik after his death. "Your body is sound, Admiral Pike, and yet you cannot use the whole of it. I believe you grieve, as well. I believe that grief is what prevents you from healing fully, like Selenik's grief kept him from healing."

* * *

**A/N:** Please check out Aphrodite420's new one-shot _Sunrises_ for more on T'Shan, Satuvek and Selenik. Find it at **www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6383207/1/**. Also, I don't usually include vocabularies in my fics, but for Aphro's sake:

**skasaya**: medical treatment

**nohv**: meld

**hakau**: heal

**kakhartausu**: guide (noun)

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, any of its characters and T'Shan remains the sole property of the fan fiction writer known as Aphrodite420.


	3. My Soul Beholds Yours

Christopher lay back against the training table, fighting to concentrate on Tom's instructions during his morning therapy session. Thoughts of a dark-haired enchantress who moonlighted as a master torturer kept distracting him. Every day, without fail, she brought him to the very edge of realizing his desires and then forced him to stretch towards them on his own.

Each time, he was unable to reach beyond the vast chasm between what should have been within reach and what he could actually touch. He was afraid he knew why.

"Alright, Chris," the physical therapist said. His cheerleader's voice pummeled a grimace onto his patient's face. "Let's see if we can get a little resistance going again. Yesterday was awesome!"

As the admiral watched, Tom slipped on force-gauge gauntlets and placed the palms onto the bottoms his patient's bare feet. Pike didn't feel a thing.

"Push!" The order, like everything else that came out of the therapist's mouth, was cheerful, but firm. "Come on. Give me a little more!"

As far as Christopher could tell, he wasn't giving him anything at all. But Tom didn't lift his eyes from the display hovering over his gloves, ticking off shifting amounts of newtons in figures too small for Pike to see. He gave up trying to read how much force he was supposedly exerting, settling instead on finding his focus so he could do as he was told.

He wasn't sure when he got there because T'Shan's theories — no, one theory in particular — got in the way. She claimed his body was healed, that the nerves had been properly regenerated, that the only thing keeping him from making them work was his own pain. His fear. His grief.

It was insulting. Starfleet officers accepted that danger was inherent to the work they chose. The _lives_ they chose. True, no human man or woman could become completely inured to the emotional stresses that came with serving, but—

"Good!" Tom shouted. "Again!"

Pike didn't have a clue what he'd done right, but if thinking about _that_ _woman_ helped… He let his mind drift back to the second time he'd met with his second, less conventional, "therapist" and to the Vulcan's tale of sorrow.

She hadn't brought it up again — neither her story nor her proposed remedy for his continued difficulties — but that hadn't stopped Christopher from mulling over her offer just about every waking minute. Almost every waking minute that wasn't spent in that wonderfully aware place she took him every time she came. When he was in that state of being, there wasn't room in his mind for anything other than the wonderful and wondrous machine that was his body. A body that ended, as far as he could perceive — three weeks after he'd begun this experimental therapy — somewhere around his upper hips.

"We have made progress," she had assured him when he'd mentioned the lack of it, but the absence of worry in her voice hadn't kept him from believing that she, too, was unsatisfied with how far he had come.

He couldn't stop himself from dwelling on _why_ he'd so far failed. T'Shan's words weighed as heavily as his useless legs.

"_I believe you grieve, as well." _Although her expression hadn't altered, he'd known — as certainly as if he'd been feeling it himself — what each word had cost her.

"_I believe that grief is what prevents you from healing fully, like Selenik's grief kept him from healing."_

And the worst part of knowing — the worst part of having been the catalyst that made her dredge up that old pain — was that he was starting to believe she was right.

Gritting his teeth, he willed his feet to press back against the physical therapist's hand. Nothing happened and _her_ voice filled his mind again.

"_As Spock has told you, touching minds is an extremely personal thing for Vulcans. We do not offer it lightly."_

A mind meld. A chance to explore the source of this "grief" he had yet to acknowledge. He gave up trying to push and trying not to think about T'Shan's suggestion. Sweat stopped rolling down his face as the effort flowed out of him. The always cheerful therapist tried to encourage him with "Come on, Christopher! Don't stop now!" but a quick glare quickly made him consider other options.

"Okay, Chris," he said. "How about we break a little early today? I know it doesn't seem like it, but you really are making a little progress."

With an amused snort, Pike rolled onto his side and painstakingly pushed himself up. _The man's a good liar_, he thought because the only thing keeping him upright was a combination of sheer will and the new knowledge of how his body worked. Almost without thought, he fell into the light meditative state T'Shan had taught him to use in order to find the hyper-awareness without her intervention.

He wasn't sure why he was so sure, but he _knew_ she hadn't expected him to succeed in that first phase so quickly or so readily. He knew it without thought or effort. He knew it as certainly as he knew to begin meditating by concentrating on a spot on his back, hovering between his sixth and seventh ribs.

"_Choose a focus within yourself,"_ she had told him. "_Study that part of you. Learn it. Know it well enough that you no longer need to seek it."_

Christopher felt himself sinking deeper into himself without losing sight of what was going on around him. It was just enough to keep his back straight as he balanced on his deadened gluteal muscles instead of depending on his arms to stay upright.

Not rising out of his meditation, he signaled for the therapist to lower the table and move his mobile chair close enough so that he could grasp an armrest without toppling over. Sensing each synapse before it fired and visualizing each flex of _deltoid _and _triceps brachii_ and _biceps brachii_ and _brachioradialis_ — every movement was like an anatomy lesson — straining against bone as it tensed, he swung himself into the seat.

"Maybe I should have been a gymnast," he murmured to himself. At the thought, two sets of zygomaticus major and minor worked in tandem with a pair of _levator labii_ superioris to pull up either corner of his lips. An opposing pair of _levator anguli oris_ further elevated the angle of his mouth, while each _risorius_ yanked it towards the sides of his face. _Orbicularis oculi_ contracted, spreading a corona of fine wrinkles around his eyes. "Thanks, Tom."

It was only as the chair carried him out into the corridor that he realized his smile was real. That he was happiest when he was feeling everything that he was.

Except this wasn't everything.

At the new thought, the muscles in his face went limp, and he continued towards his room without any expression at all.

.

.

"I am unsure I will be able to assist him further, osu."

Few humans would have noticed the minute widening of Sarek's eyes or discerned the cause of the infinitesimal flaring of his nostrils, but T'Shan was Vulcan and she had served him since he was a child. His surprise and annoyance, however briefly displayed, was unambiguously evident in his otherwise placid demeanor.

"His pathways are blocked," she explained. A raised brow encouraged her to continue.

For several seconds, she debated whether to follow the silent order. Her conjectures and observations were of no concern to Sarek, and yet, she had come to him seeking advice and direction. She did not think Christopher Pike would wish many to know of his private struggles—she doubted he had admitted many of them even to himself—and yet, until he moved past them, she would be unable to truly help him heal himself.

"He grieves for what he has already lost, and fears that which he could still lose. I believe he views his ascension to the admiralty as a sign of his… affliction rather than an honor. And he believes that by convincing others to follow him into Starfleet, he has placed their lives in jeopardy. He blames himself for many of those who were lost and continues to urge the ones who yet live to resign."

Sarek's brow dropped, and he half turned away from her. She could see that he was carefully considering her revelation. Neither spoke for the next seven minutes.

"Spock?" he asked eventually.

"All those who are called 'Pike's Orphans.'"

He did not wince at the suggestive title, but T'Shan knew it brought painful memories for the man she had helped guide to adulthood. She waited for him to speak again.

"You have suggested a meld. To help him move beyond his grief." It was not a question.

"He resists, osu."

Three additional minutes elapsed before Sarek offered her a solution.

"Ask my son to speak with him."

Nodding, she exited the office, leaving another man to his grief.

.

.

She stopped dead in the doorway, a little apprehensive of moving further. He didn't look like he wanted company. But he sure looked like he needed it. Helen Noel crossed the threshold, pasting a cheery smile on her face while preparing herself for a surly and melancholy Christopher Pike.

"It's not working as well as we'd hoped," he said without preamble. "We're going to try something new."

Doctor Noel sat in the chair next to his bed and listened to the planned changes.

.

He stopped dead in the doorway, his eyes riveted on the intimate tableau. A year ago, he might have been in the picture, himself. A year ago, though, it wouldn't have been taking place in a rehabilitation center, and his knees wouldn't have been too damned shaky to carry him forward.

Chris Pike looked good. Damned good. Fit. The thin cotton of his t-shirt stretched across pectoral muscles that hadn't been nearly as well-developed just a few months ago.

He was smiling patiently at the too-pretty-for-her-own-good young woman sitting beside his bed. Laughed when her small fist connected with his newly muscular arm.

If you didn't know what to look for, you could almost believe the man could walk. Leonard McCoy had good reason to know what to look for and the knowledge twisted his gut no matter how many times he told himself he'd made the right choice.

Bones stopped breathing when Pike's blue eyes snapped over to the doorway.

"Nice of you to finally make it, son."

"Sir, I—"

"Don't you 'sir' me, Leonard! Get the hell in here." Pike cracked what most people secretly called his "Starfleet Wants _You_!" grin.

McCoy forced himself to amble in as if guilt wasn't weighing on him like a five-hundred-kilo thoroughbred with a two-tonne rider.

"As I was about to say, it's only been a couple of weeks," he said, feigning nonchalance.

Helen rolled her eyes and muttered, "Six" under her breath.

Eyes flashing because he knew she was right, Bones snapped, "Who appointed you chief timekeeper and clock-watcher, Hellcat? I've been busy!"

"Oh yeah. Because you're the best all-arounder in the Fleet and Medical couldn't possibly do anything without asking you first." She rolled her eyes again, grinning as she did it.

"Play nice, children!" Pike admonished with a grin of his own.

"Not all of us quacks are lucky enough to end up with a cushy couch in the Freud Squad," McCoy retorted as if the older man hadn't spoken.

"Not all of us shrinks are so brilliant Admiral Jung has to stash us on starships to keep from looking stupid."

Beaming at her, Bones leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Flattery will get you everywhere, darlin'."

"Not _that_ nice," teased Pike.

.

As soon as Pike shut down Leonard's ridiculous guilt over the paralysis with a sharp "Are you apologizing for saving my life, Doctor?" the visit got good. Watching the younger man bicker back and forth with Helen was almost like old times.

Until it got out of hand.

"So, while you've been too busy putting Band-Aids® on your baby captain's booboos," she said, a wicked gleam in her eye, "Chris here has been developing an acute case of Three-A."

"I got better things to do than save _Lieutenant_ Kirk's ass, these days," Bones grumbled back. "Besides, I sent a present! And what the hell's Three-A?"

Pike nodded his head in Helen's direction. "She confiscated the bourbon," he said, just to steer Len away from the rest of what she'd said. Then he tried to send her a silent "shut up."

"He can't have it during the hakau-nohv!" Noel defended her action. "And Three-A is _amor aricula acuta_: crushing on T'Shan."

She recognized her mistake about ten seconds after Christopher's telepathic message failed to reach her mind.

.

"Put your claws away, Hellion." Christopher smiled at the young woman who was like a daughter to him in so many ways. She'd fight tooth and nail for him, and he was grateful, but this time her adversary wasn't all that adversarial. "Len's on our side."

"The hell I am!" Len spat. "You think this Vulcan hocus-pocus has a snowball's chance in the bayou of working?"

Helen opened her mouth to yell back, but Pike had had enough. "Shut up! Both of you."

He looked at her pointedly when she started to speak anyway.

"Leonard's not the bad guy here," he said, and noticed the younger man's slight wince at his pronouncement. "You're _not_," he told him, more firmly than he'd spoken to Hel. "He's looking out for me, just like you, Hellion. We're all on the same team, here. And both of you better start acting like it, unless you want me to kick both of your asses."

Neither were given a chance to respond because the door swung open before Christopher had even finished speaking.

.

Spock greeted Pike before nodding first to McCoy, then to Noel. The two young doctors were exchanging half-shamefaced, half-mistrustful glances when T'Shan spoke up.

"If the admiral is to be able to follow through on his threat in the near future," she said, "it would be wise for us to begin today's exercises now." She leveled a shrewd look at McCoy. "You may remain as an observer, Doctor, if you desire. Doctor Noel has witnessed the process several times and claims to have found each session to be of interest."

McCoy looked to Spock, who merely remained still, awaiting a decision. He glanced over to where Pike waited expectantly.

"Fine," he told T'Shan, but then quickly addressed Spock again. "If any of this hurts him or causes him distress in any way—"

"Admiral Pike shall not be harmed, Leonard," the half Vulcan stated. "My… mother experienced many melds over the course of her marriage to my father. This consultation, however, _will_ in several ways deviate significantly from what the admiral has encountered during prior treatments.

"Previously, T'Shan conducted only hakau-nohvlahr — healing melds — which required her to touch his peripheral nervous system and originated in the brain stem." His gaze moved to find Pike, still sitting, silent, with his back propped up against the headboard. "In the hope that it will allow him better access to learning to heal himself, Christopher has agreed to a kash-nohv, a mind-meld. And I shall act as initiator and mediator for this first attempt."

Bones opened and closed his mouth several times before he realized he couldn't find anything to say and just nodded. Despite their short acquaintance, he trusted Spock. Hel-cat trusted the overgrown elf, and somehow she'd known him for years. More important, Christopher Pike trusted Spock, and Leonard knew the half-Vulcan was another in the small group of recruits in whom Chris had taken a special interest.

_We're all on the same team_, their mentor and friend had said. He'd take him at his word. For now.

Sometime while he'd been lost in thought, Helen had gotten up from her chair and the Vulcan woman had taken her place. Spock watched Leonard a few moments longer, then walked over and sat on the edge of Chris's bed. He spoke quietly to both patient and fellow "healer." Bones couldn't catch what was said, but all three closed their eyes and seemed to shrink from awareness of anything beyond their small circle.

Doctors Noel and McCoy stood sentry.

.

Christopher felt the brush of a foreign mind against his. Then suddenly, it wasn't so foreign. He couldn't say how he recognized the ordered channels of Spock's thoughts — still separate, hidden even, and humming with restrained emotion — but he did. Another joined them, this one truly foreign, and seemingly devoid of all feelings. T'Shan.

/_Three are touching, but not yet one._/ Spock's "voice" entered Pike's mind, but did not fill it. /_I will touch only that which you allow me to touch. Share only that which you allow me to share._/

Somehow, Christopher knew he was speaking to T'Shan, as well. _Grief_, he thought, not understanding why he did, _manifests itself in many ways_.

Without really understanding how he did so, he chose what he wanted to share, and opened himself up to two minds that were not his own.

.

He arrived at the Academy reserved to the point of appearing stiff and cold. He was the only son of a Vulcan ambassador and his human bride, but that fact was not widely known. Most people assumed he was fully Vulcan and didn't attempt to engage him on a personal level.

But Christopher Pike knew, and was intrigued by the idea of one person belonging to two such differing races. He didn't see an aloof alien, staring disdainfully at his inferiors when his eyes met Spock's. He saw a confused boy, who did not yet understand where he should stand in the universe.

Spock hadn't been one of his recruits, but he became the first of Pike's Orphans when the captain decided to figure him out. He hoped the hybrid would learn something about himself in the process.

Chris wasn't sure whether or not that hope had been fulfilled, but he knew he'd gained a friend, and something like the family he didn't have in truth, when he insisted on thrusting himself into Spock's life.

/_I learned a great deal during my time as your protégé._/

Except now whatever gains he'd made were likely for naught. And because Chris had insisted on having him serve at his side — because he couldn't easily let go of the first of his symbolic wards — Spock had seen his homeworld destroyed and his mother's death, firsthand.

/_Tushah nash-veh k'du._/ The Vulcan words of grief flowed, clear and distinct, from his mind to Spock. He couldn't be sure where he'd found them, but he knew they were right.

Spock did not respond to the formal words, but Pike felt a sense of acceptance and forgiveness — no! — lack of _blame_ emanated from the younger man. Before he could protest, T'Shan's "voice" was there in his mind.

/_Tenai du fam-tor._/ And, again, he understood perfectly. _You lack blame_.

Pike closed off that train of thought, casting about for another to examine. He wasn't surprised to find himself settling on another of his Orphans.

She would graduate from the Academy in a year. Only some specialized training had kept her dirtside when most cadets first and many cadets second class had been forced to answer the distress call.

_Enlist in Starfleet_, he'd said to her, offering the smile he'd worked hard to get just right, but which came naturally whenever he met someone who might share his dream of exploring the universe.

Those words might have sentenced her to a premature death. They still might. His heart and mind both shuddered at the thought.

/_Tenai du fam-tor._/ T'Shan reminded him. /_Parents have a duty to protect their child, but also a responsibility not to hold them back._/

He remembered she'd lost a son, and wondered how much of the story she'd left untold and how she'd learned to accept both the duty and the responsibility and how the hell she'd endured the consequences of both.

T'Shan was certain the human did not know he had directed the thoughts at her, or that she received them while Spock did not. She did not appreciate confirmation that she had been correct about grief and fear interfering with his ability to use his body's natural inclination towards healing, but she could sense his loss of awareness as he dwelled on what might be.

/_Trashu,_/ she ordered Spock, knowing that he would understand she meant no malice in telling him to leave. /_He and I will continue without you._/

Spock sought out Pike's permission, something she knew was unnecessary. But the young osu had not heard the human's thoughts and so could not know that. Having received a positive answer, he instructed T'Shan to reach for the admiral's meld points and began to withdraw as the other two flowed towards one another.

/_Three were touching,_/ he said as he faded away, /_there shall be only two._/

Then Spock was gone.

T'Shan was left alone with a human whose grief-filled mind closely resembled Selenik's.

* * *

**A/N:** The chapter title comes from my (clumsy) translation of a single line taken from a passage in the Victor Hugo play, _Le roi s'amuse_. The passage is often listed as a stand-alone poem, translated as _Paternal Love_.

**Vocabulary:**

**deltoids**, **triceps brachii**, **biceps brachii** & **brachioradialis** — shoulder and arm muscles.

**zygomaticus major**,**zygomaticus ****minor**, **levator labii superioris**, **levator anguli oris**, **orbicularis oculi** & **risorius** — facial muscles

**hakau-novh** — healing meld

**kash-novh** — mind meld

**tenai** — blame

**du** — you

**fam-tor** — lack

**"Tushah nash-veh k'du."** — "I grieve with thee."

**trashu** — leave

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or any of its concepts or characters and T'Shan remains the sole property of the fan fiction writer known as Aphrodite420.


	4. Do No Harm

He should have felt uncomfortable with Spock's sudden absence. Instead, he was… relieved. He could feel T'Shan's presence, patiently waiting for him to… he wasn't certain what she wanted, why she waited.

Her answer to his unasked question also came without words. Still, he knew, almost instantly, what was needed. Christopher fell back into his memories, sensing that T'Shan followed.

/ _I never had children of my own, but…_/

The Vulcan kid was lost. He didn't have that slack jawed, wide-eyed confused expression a human would have had in the same situation. But he'd stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he'd come through the gate. After briefly scanning the twenty by twenty meter enclosure, he fished a small map out of his pocket and scanned it just as quickly.

Chris was surprised to see a fleeting look of frustration cross his face before the kid turned, clearly intending to go back the way he'd come.

_Never saw an annoyed Vulcan before_.

For some reason the thought pulled a shout of laughter out of him. Short, but loud, it got the kid's attention. When the tall, gangly cadet turned around again, Chris stood up from the alcove bench and stepped out into the open.

"Your map probably says the Computer Science buildings are through this gate," he said as he stepped forward. "Those dumb fucks in Admissions keep forgetting to update them. Command approved this memorial garden six months ago, and it's been here for two. Shouldn't take more than ten minutes to add the garden and the new route to CS, but somehow it just doesn't get done."

He reached the kid and thrust out a hand. "Christopher Pike."

The kid only hesitated a heartbeat before shaking the proffered hand. Then he immediately stepped back and stood at attention. "Spock, Cadet Fourth Class, Commander pike," he said stiffly.

Pike chuckled, shaking his head. He was out of uniform and the new cadet class were only just arriving on campus. Orientation started tomorrow, classes a week after that. But this cadet already knew his name. Creepy. Chris Pike wasn't exactly a household name…

Of course, everyone always said Vulcans were eerily intelligent, and the handful he'd met certainly had been… The thought trailed off as two facts snapped together. The kid was a cadet, and he was Vulcan. Starfleet Academy's _first_ Vulcan. And he'd gone and made the kid shake his hand!

The kid didn't look particularly perturbed, but Pike figured he should try to make amends, anyway. In the name of interspecies peace and all that. Awkwardly, he held up his hand and contorted his fingers into the Vulcan salute. Just barely.

For a moment, he could have sworn the kid wanted to laugh. A second later, when the kid held up his own hand — thumb stretched _away _from his index finger — Pike was sure of it.

"Dif-tor heh smusma, Commander," Spock said without revealing a trace of the amusement Pike was sure he was suppressing.

Grinning for both of them, Chris said, "Uh, you too, Spock. Want me to show you how to get where you need to go?"

/ _Spock ended up needing a lot more than directions over the years. They should have issued him a map for navigating humanity._/

/ _Such a 'map' provided itself, Admiral. Spock was fortunate to have encountered you so early in his time here._/

T'Shan was right, he knew. Years went by before he learned the full extent of Spock's estrangement from his father, but hints appeared within months.

Aside from an occasional visit to his mother's family in Washington State, the young Vulcan spent all of his time in classes or studying. He didn't even leave the Academy during the school breaks, preferring to take extra classes so he could complete his four major areas of study in the time his classmates would take to complete one.

At first, it was just curiosity that made the officer seek out the cadet's company. Pike had only accepted a two-year teaching assignment to avoid another long mission before getting his first command. He'd worked hard to earn his ship, and didn't want to be halfway across the Beta Quadrant when they finally finished building her. But life could be boring, dirtside. Regurgitating policy and theory and reliving his experiences chasing new life and new civilizations for green kids eager to take his place wasn't challenging or the least bit interesting.

But the half-Vulcan puzzle of a cadet was.

Christopher Pike hadn't set out to become mentor, surrogate father or friend to Spock, but he'd become all of those things in the two years they were at the Academy together.

By the time the first eighteen months were behind them, Pike knew that instead of enjoying the best of two worlds, Spock was living like he was alone in the universe.

"Look, you've done enough work to complete three degree by the end of next term," Chris told him one day. "Spend your third year out there." He pointed up to the stars twinkling in the night sky. "I talked to Commodore Komack and he's willing to pull some strings. We're calling it an internship. You can come back here for your fourth year and finish that fourth degree."

Chris was surprised, but pleased, when Spock agreed to the scheme. He hadn't wanted to leave the kid behind.

/ _Taking care of him kept me from becoming a cynic. When I agreed to teach, I thought I'd just be making time until I got my ship. Meeting Spock changed all of that._/

/ _Accepting responsibility for another in such a capacity often has that effect._/

/' _Welcome to parenthood', huh?_/

Rather than answering, T'Shan encouraged him to dig deeper.

A few years went by before he took a personal interest in another cadet. And, even then, the relationship was nothing like the one he shared with Spock. There were no fatherly undertones to his mentorship of Georgia Melia. But the experience was enough to make him rethink his attitude towards teaching. When Command offered him the new flagship in exchange for another stint at the Academy, he accepted. And not just because he wanted Enterprise.

Spock had also accepted a teaching position when Pike chose him as his first officer, even though the young officer's career was well on its way by then. Pike was pleased to be able to spend time with his friend again, but Spock didn't need him…

/ _The definition of need is subjective among humans, is it not?_/

/ _He was holding his own by then; I didn't feel like I needed to watch over him anymore._/

T'Shan's mind remained silent.

Spock hadn't needed Chris anymore. Leonard McCoy, though… McCoy had been a special case. Still was. Grief, Pike was coming to realize, manifested itself in many forms.

Len hadn't been a recruit so much as he'd been a rescue.

No one had been more surprised than Chris when Philip Boyce decided to retire from space duty to teach at Starfleet Medical. He'd planned on asking the veteran doctor to serve as his CMO. Ever practical, Phil had a replacement lined up even before Pike could tell him just how he'd ruined his plans.

"You're gonna want Purie running your Med Bay," he said, deftly preparing one of his signature cocktails. "Can't make a martini to save his life, but he's a good doctor. I'd trust him with my life and four hundred or so others to boot."

But his advice had come with a price. Phil slid a PADD over to Chris along with his drink.

Pike took his time scanning the contents while sipping on his martini. He wasn't even halfway through before he realized where his friend was going with the information. Looking up from the screen, he met the doctor's knowing gaze.

"No one says joining Starfleet is a cure for an ailing spirit anymore," he said.

"They don't," Boyce conceded. "In this boy's case, maybe they should. Look, I'm not asking you to invite him onto Enterprise. Just meet with him. Feel him out. Let him know the universe is bigger than one man whose wife up and left him."

"He's afraid of flying, Phil! And a drunk, too!"

"Not yet, he's not," the doctor protested. "He will be if he keeps going like he's been going. If someone doesn't step in and give him something else to work towards, that is.

"He's an amazingly talented physician, Chris. There's more to him than what you're reading there, though."

According to Phil's dossier, Leonard McCoy wasn't even thirty yet, but he'd already started making a name for himself finding treatments for "incurable" diseases. His star had started rising even before he'd graduated from medical school.

Apparently, his dedication to his career had cost him his marriage. Or, at least, that's what the wife claimed in the divorce papers. Pike read further. Jocelyn McCoy had conveniently neglected to mention her affair with her husband's cousin until _after_ the divorce was final.

That revelation, and finding out that a last-ditch hook-up towards the end of the dissolution of their marriage had resulted in a pregnancy, seemed to have driven the young doctor to drink. Jocelyn planned on raising the baby with the cousin.

"His daddy put an end to that notion," Phil told him. "David and Mary have been helping take care of little Joanna these last few years. John McCoy didn't want to raise some other man's kid, anyway. But Len's falling apart, Chris. He's got to pull himself together if he wants to be a good daddy, himself. Go see him. Before he's so far down he ends up breaking his little girl's heart."

Chris hadn't expected much, but he'd taken Phil Boyce's advice and gone to visit Leonard McCoy. He knew all about fathers who disappointed their children and didn't really expect that he could help McCoy. He didn't even expect to like him.

/_You prejudged this man._/

/_Yeah. And that taught me a lesson, too. I thought getting to know Spock killed the cynic in me. But it __was really meeting Len that finished opening my mind._/

Leonard surprised him. He was as different from Spock as a man could get, but within hours of meeting him, Chris knew he was as hooked as he'd become when he met the Vulcan.

Underneath his prematurely curmudgeonly demeanor, Len cared about everyone around him. Maybe caring a little too much was where he'd gone wrong. Still, he was willing to do anything for his little girl. Even if that meant taking himself out of her daily life until he was strong enough to act like a father again.

Chris knew being away from Joanna was hard for Leonard, even if the other man refused to talk about it with anyone.

Yes, grief manifested itself in many different ways. If she wasn't currently staring daggers at the man (even with his eyes closed, Chris was dead certain she was), he might have recommended Helen to treat the other doctor on a professional basis.

/_It is as I have told you: when one acts in a parental role, it is not unusual to consider offering advice and assistance, even after the young ones are ready for independence._/

/_I didn't know Vulcans got the urge to nag._/

/_We have learned to control the _urge./

.

/_I wish you'd teach Hel-cat_ _how to do that_./

/_Doctor Noel offers advice she believes will benefit you._/

/_That's the problem. She's trying to take care of me when I should have protected her from the start._/

It took less than ten minutes for Helen Noel to convince him that she belonged in Starfleet. She'd spent the first five cheerfully telling him what he could do with his "peacekeeping and humanitarian armada."

"We still haven't done enough to explore the human psyche," she told him at the three-day career conference where they first met. "That and trying to patch up the abnorms should be more than enough excitement for a lifetime."

"That's exactly the kind of attitude Starfleet needs on the inside. We could use someone with your perspective looking at how we do what we do."

She shook her head, not even affected by his best "Starfleet wants _you_" smile.

"Why would I want to restrict myself to a giant ship with a population the size of a tiny village in the name of exploring worlds I don't care about with a bunch of abnorms who would probably be my patients, planetside?" she asked in all seriousness. "I'm just here to make sure you uniforms don't brainwash my best friend."

But her polite refusals, and a little digging, told a different story. Fortunately for Christopher, Helen hadn't succeeded in convincing her best friend of the evils of Starfleet. And since the other young woman had managed to impress Spock at the event, it became easy enough to learn more about Hel.

/_This memory is painful for you, but I sense you did not experience that emotion at the time. Why does remembering distress you?_/

_Deciding that showing would be more effective than telling, Pike allowed the memory to play out for T'Shan._

The first life-altering event of the young medical student's life had come when she was orphaned at six. Meeting Nyota Uhura three years later had been the second.

After both her parents died in some kind of a fool daredevil accident, Hel was shunted around relatives all over Earth and its colonies before a distant cousin living in the United States of Africa had agreed to take the young girl in. She'd ended up attending the same elite school as Ambassador M'Umbha Uhura's youngest daughter.

On paper, the two little girls had nothing in common except their need to succeed. That hadn't stopped them from becoming inseparable once they realized they were on entirely different career trajectories.

Young Hel had spent nearly as much time in the Uhura household as she did with her mother's third cousin, twice removed. And sometimes that had meant going on off-planet holidays with Ambassador Uhura and her kids. She'd traveled to worlds most children of Earth only ever got to read about. Some of her best work in med school was based on those travels.

They talked again the next day. Noel continued to insist that she wasn't going to enlist, and her eyes kept wandering worriedly over to where her friend was talking to Spock.

More than a year went by before he saw her again. She and her friend hadn't showed up to the last day of the conference. But he kept in touch and kept abreast of her studies, always believing she Belonged in Starfleet.

All Spock would say on the way back to San Francisco was that he didn't believe Ms. Uhura would be enlisting. He refused to explain further.

Chris was disappointed that Nyota Uhura was alone when she began her classes at the Academy three months later. A year after that, Helen Noel followed in the footsteps of the closest thing she had to a sister. Just like that, Pike knew he was going to end up feeling like a father again.

/_You blame yourself for inviting Dr. Noel's decision to join Starfleet. Yet, it seems her primary influence was a desire to remain close to Miss Uhura. Your guilt over her choice is both illogical and unwise. Even if your efforts had some impact on her decision, her continued interest in your recovery suggests that she developed a familial relationship with you, similar to the one she shares with Miss Uhura._/.

/_There was a time when the Uhuras were family enough for her. Then I stepped in and she ended up with at least three more people to waste time worrying about._/

Chris never meant to add George Kirk's delinquent son to his growing brood. Oddly enough, it was Hel's fault Jim ended up getting a second look.

Pike had already washed his hands of Jim by the time the boy came rolling up to the shuttle in Riverside, and he was busy enough with classes and recruiting and getting his ship built to do it again without having to think about it. Besides, Kirk didn't seem to need anything to keep him happy but a steady stream of challenges at school and warm companions in his bed.

Jim was George's genius-with-a-record son and Len's absurdly competitive, womanizing friend. That was it. And that's probably all he ever would have been as far as Chris was concerned if he'd ignored Len's repeated warnings of "Stay away from my sister."

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, Bones," Jim said, slapping a hard hand on his friend's shoulder. "You don't _have_ a sister."

Only this time, Chris was there to hear it for himself when Len growled back, "Might as well have! Look, Jim, Hel-cat will eat you alive and Pike will rip whatever's left of you. And don't expect me to put you back together, when they're through with you. If you value your life, leave her alone."

Instead of paternal rage, Chris found himself feeling… intrigued. Jim Kirk had the mind to keep up his grades, and the tenacity to overcome no-win scenarios. But this time, he showed he had wisdom, too.

"All right, Bones," he said. "I'll keep my hands off your 'sister.' But you owe me one, man!"

Kirk grinned and ordered another drink, while Len grimaced and sipped his ice water.

Chris wondered if he was the only one who heard the wistful way Jim had pronounced the word "sister." He realized George Kirk's son might need him — might need _them _— after all.

/_You claimed that Dr. Noel _wastes her time worrying about _the people you have gathered around you. Do you believe that your time was also wasted on the relationships you formed with them? Do you now discount the lessons you claim to have learned from the time you spent with them?_/

/_No! No, damn it! I'm saying I probably ruined their lives. I convinced them either to join or to remain in one of the most dangerous organizations in the universe. And I did it because I was too damned selfish to let any of them go! And now… now I'm _useless!/

The world outside of the meld rushed up to meet Chris. He became acutely aware of his heart pounding in his chest, forcing blood through vessels throughout his body. He felt his lungs snatching in air through ragged breaths. He sensed the oxygen meshing with his blood so that his heart could pump it through his body again.

His skin was icy cold, drenched in sweat. Only the places where T'Shan's fingers rested against his face and temple weren't freezing.

Prying open his lids, feeling the muscles work in unison , he stared into dark, steady eyes.

He heard Spock move towards the bed, but he didn't know how he knew it was Spock. The world was reduced to his body, T'Shan's warm hand and her understanding eyes.

/_I can't do _anything _for them now. They're all hurting and all I can do is lie here, knowing they're falling apart even if no one else sees it._/

/_Now that we have discovered the wound, we can begin to heal it._/

When he reached up to cover her hand with his own, she didn't pull away.

* * *

**A/N:** Huge thanks to Aphrodite420 for the loan of T'Shan and for the beta. After she returned the chapter to me, I added a some new material, so any mistakes you find are my own.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, any of its characters and T'Shan is solely the creation of the fic writer known as Aphrodite420.


	5. Progression

T'Shan knelt before her stone asenoi and touched a lighted match to the incense in the deep bowl. Usually, she used only the flame as a focus, but when deeper meditation was required, she added the soothing blend of powdered herbs to aid in finding her center.

Emotional effluence was not an unexpected byproduct of kash-nohvlahr. Even among her own people, the occurrence was to be expected. Humans, however, did not experience emotion in the same way as Vulcans did.

Admiral Pike had not been trained to examine, acknowledge and then restrain his feelings as they developed. Instead, he indulged in the positive emotions while all but ignoring the negative. That was not a healthy response for any sentient being.

And now she was charged with shifting through the morass in order to help him heal himself. The task ahead of her was daunting. It was not the Vulcan way. She was not sure she could succeed.

Rocking forward slightly, T'Shan inhaled the delicate aroma wafting from her firepot.

Christopher's emotions were chaotic. Confounding. But they were also familiar. That was what frightened her.

She inhaled again, ordering her thoughts, allowing the world outside her mind fade from her focus.

Another deep breath, and she began examining what she had experienced while guiding Christopher through his own mind.

_Comfort_. Her own as well as his. The emotion was not damaging, so you cut away the sense of misgiving that accompanied her own sense of the feeling and focused on learning the contours and weight of comfort. They would both require this emotion when she touched his mind again.

_Longing_. Although he had not yet acknowledged it, an unconscious desire for familial connection had led Christopher to adopt a paternal role, first with Spock, and then with the other cadets for whom he believed he was responsible. She understood the yen for family. It was something she had know well before Selenik. And before Satuvek.

_Guilt_. Under the circumstances, it was illogical to indulge in such an emotion. The young people Christopher had encouraged to join him were responsible for their own choices. He had offered each an opportunity to achieve more than their circumstances at the time would have allowed.

She did not understand why his guilt was so disconcerting. Without understanding the emotion, she could not properly master it. Instead, she carefully separated herself from the experience, recognizing that perhaps Christopher would need different kind of healing to move beyond the wasteful, destructive feeling.

_Fear_. This, too, she shared with Christopher. That was not surprising. She had known before she began that the grief that prevented him from fully benefiting from the kakhartausu t'nohv closely resembled the sorrow her mate had been unable to release. It was only fitting that she should approach such anguish with heightened caution.

She had believed she was properly prepared to sense it again.

Reaching for the comfort she had earlier analyzed and compartmentalized, T'Shan attempted to dispel the sickening sensation of terror without thought.

She was only partially successful.

.

Sarek sat behind his desk, studying his former housekeeper. T'Shan showed no sign of inner turmoil, but that she had arranged to meet with him to discuss this at all told him that she lacked her usual serenity.

"Do you wish to continue?"

"I am conflicted, osu," she admitted. "It is not a state I have experienced often."

Sarek recalled another time when she had had difficulty seeking an acceptable course. While he could not question her logic or her ability, he wondered at the wisdom of the task he had set before her.

Whether she sought counsel or simply permission to act on a conclusion she had already reached was unclear. While it was unlikely that she required his guidance in the matter — for the majority of their interactions, he had been the one seeking her opinion — the prospect was not impossible. Sarek was unaccustomed to seeing her appear the least bit indecisive. He felt unequal to offering suitable advice should she ask.

Amanda might have said… It did not matter what he surmised Amanda would have counseled. She was not here to speak for herself, and in spite of the decades his mind had been joined with hers, he had no true idea of what words she might have offered T'Shan. He had only himself, and his own beliefs to guide him.

"As a race," he said at last, "we are indebted to Admiral Pike. If not for the decisions he made as captain of the Enterprise, far fewer of us would have been able to escape the destruction of our planet."

Sarek knew he was unnecessarily repeating facts she already knew. He wondered if perhaps he was using the Human tactic in order to sound more like his wife. It did not matter. He knew what he needed to say.

"In spite of everything he did — everything he risked — so that more of us might survive, it would be illogical to ask a single Vulcan to risk damage in an effort to repair Admiral Pike."

T'Shan looked up, her eyes meeting his for the first time since she had ceased speaking.

"I will continue," she said. "Our race is not alone in its debt to Christopher Pike."

She did not wait for a response, or for him to excuse her, before leaving his office as quietly as she had entered.

_Yes_, Sarek thought as the door slid closed behind her. _There is much I owe that man, as well_.

* * *

She slid back into his mind as if she belonged there.

/_Just like coming home, huh? Should I have had dinner waiting?_/

Letting his amusement flow through the meld, he called up an image of a candlelit meal and floor covered in rose petals.

There was brief sense of a harsher ache, an icy cold than his own. Without thinking, he pushed _comfort, warmth_ towards the source of the anguish.

He couldn't tell if the suffering faded because of what he had done, or if it had ever really been there at all.

In the next instant, he was following T'Shan's unspoken order and sifting through memories he wished had disappeared with the use of his legs.

Her presence was like a ship's shield, protecting him from the artillery fire of his own memories and emotions. Easing him towards the pain that pooled into blackness just beyond his hips.

They dipped into that dark, cold place, and he felt his chest constrict in a fear that went deeper than what he'd felt strapped to a slab on the crazy Romulan's ship.

_I left them alone_, he thought, forgetting for a moment that she was privy to his thoughts. _I went off to die and left them to try to keep it together_.

/_They were successful._/

/_Olsen died!_/

/_Because of his own foolishness._/

/_They all could have died. They didn't know how to work together and I made Jim Spock's second_./

/_And, together, they did what you asked of them_./

/_In spite of the way I would have done things_./

/_You know them well, and understood what they were capable of. They acted as you knew they could and they succeeded._/

/_I _didn't_ know!_/

/_It is here. Your choices and the reasons you made them._/

/_Where?_/

/_Here. In the place you would not touch._/

Needle-like pricks of pain flashed and burst all through his the area just below his waist, and Pike's eyes snapped open to meet T'Shan's.

"How?" he asked aloud even though she was still there, in his mid, already puling him back from the dark place he hadn't even been aware they'd visited.

/_You led the way. You want to release the pain and heal._/

"I didn't even… It was…"

"You want to heal," she repeated. "You know the way and you chose to go."

He his eyes fall away from hers, and all at once he became aware of the cold sweat gathered on his face, soaking his shirt and even his… the sensation below his waist began to fade as the thought unfurled.

/_We will continue. And you shall succeed._/

Chris turned his to the man sitting in a chair on the far side of the bed.

"It hurt," he told Len. "I felt it, and it hurt."

Leonard's eyes held his for a long moment before shifting over to T'Shan. Chris watched as dark brown eyes met hazel.

"Thank you," Len said before taking a last look at Chris. Then with two sharp nods, he left the room.

* * *

Chris pulled down on the weight bar above his bed one more time before angling his head towards the empty entryway and calling, "You may as well stop lurking behind the door, Kirk."

Jim didn't even have the grace to look sheepish as he sauntered through the entrance and stood at attention beside the bed.

"Admiral." His voice was flat and formal. Sounding the like perfect officer they both knew he wasn't.

"And you can knock that shit off, too," Chris told him, grinning. He focused on the faint sense of where his hips should be, using his arms to shift himself upright while a finger on the embedded control pad adjusted the bed.

Jim grinned back. His saucy "Yes, sir" sounded forced.

"Seriously, Kirk," Chris chided. "Sit your ass down and tell me where you've been."

"Busy," Jim said, finally relaxing as he flopped into the chair next to bed. "Because, you know, helping save Earth and probably the Federation isn't enough to get you out of a disciplinary hearing." The accompanying grin was insouciant, but his eyes were pained.

Chris's own eyes hardened. "No," he said. "It's not. And you'd better remember that."

Suddenly, Jim's back was made of steel. "Yes, sir." His voice was just as strong, and Chris nodded his satisfaction.

"But," he said, "I hope you'd do it the same way all over again."

The boy's eyebrows shot up. "Sir?"

Chris couldn't hold back another grin. "Didn't I tell you to knock that shit off?"

When he didn't get a reply, he shook his head, still smiling. But he knew he needed to be serious right now.

"They're going to give you Enterprise, son," he said.

Jim shot up faster than his eyebrows. "Sir—Chris, I—." His mouth opened and closed several times before he gave up and sat down again.

Chris reached over and grabbed the kid's shaking hand, squeezing it tight enough to bruise.

"I wouldn't trust her with anybody else, Jim," he said, his voice too full of everything he was feeling to rise above a whisper. "You deserve it."

But James T. Kirk, pain in the ass, bane of the existence of just about every instructor on campus, savior of Earth and his captain's ass was still gaping, shaking his head.

"I put your name forward myself, kid. And you impressed them all enough to make it happen. Just don't fuck it up."

* * *

T'Shan pushed through the archaic swinging door. This area of the medical facility had been built to incorporate several elements intended to resemble Human homes. The architect had theorized that some patients had an easier time recuperating when they were placed in apparently non-clinical environments. So far, that had not proven to be the case with the man she was coming to visit. But he his recovery was more complex than the Human physicians realized and he had not been transferred to another ward.

She did not wonder at this any longer. Many Human doctors had lost patience with Starfleet's Christopher Pike. They had not given up on his recovery, but they believed there was little they could do for him in his current state. That was why _she_ was here, after all.

"You again?" Christopher lay flat in his bed, his head turned towards the doorway. His tone suggested annoyance combined with resignation. "Come to torture me some more today?"

He was less surly on days when they melded first. But this was not one of those days. It could not be. Solitary meditation had limited effectiveness. If she was forced to seek a healer to cure her of the stresses of helping this man heal himself, osu Sarek would not allow her to continue.

She would not share that burden with Christopher.

"You cannot expect to overcome your injury if you cannot believe success is within your own means."

She watched as his lips slowly spread into what Humans called a grin.

"I know it's within reach, Boss Lady," he said. "It's just easier when you're reaching out with me. But never mind. Let's just get started."

Two hours later, he was no longer smiling.

"Damn it! Damn _you_ and damn your mysterious Vulcan methods. And damn my fucking useless legs."

T'Shan started to speak as she helped adjust the aforementioned legs on his bed. But his sudden cry made her stop.

"Ouch!" He glared fiercely. "Watch it woman! That hurt."

She glanced at her hand on his leg, then met his eyes again. Lifting a brow, she said, "Indeed?"

T'Shan had had many years to become accustomed to Human facial expressions. She watched as comprehension etched itself across the Christopher's visage.

"Shit," he whispered.

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, any of its characters and T'Shan is solely the creation of the fic writer known as Aphrodite420.


	6. Disappointments

The Enterprise wasn't his anymore, but that didn't make Christopher Pike care about the ship any less. If anything, knowing that he wouldn't be the one guiding her through the galaxy only increased his desire — no, his _need_ — to ensure everything was properly set in place for this second "maiden voyage." Command accepted that and let he stick his nose in just about all parts of the preparation. He didn't ask if anyone at HQ understood _why_ he needed to. Maybe they thought he was a has-been who didn't realize he washed-up and couldn't let go. Pike was fine with that. As long as they weren't interfering, he'd take of the kids as best he could.

He closed the most recent report on Enterprise's repairs and fit-out. The work was almost complete. Another month and she'd be ready to launch again. Chris wondered if he'd be ready to say good-bye.

Jim was grinning at him when he looked away from the console. That infectious smile that was so hard not to answer. Chris didn't bother trying.

"Looks good, son," he said approvingly. In spite of the publicity stunt Command had in the works, Kirk still needed all the approval he could get.

Jim winked and kicked his grin up a notch. "I even had them fix the paint job."

It was good to hear the kid tease.

"So, uh…Pop, does that score me the keys every now and then?"

Before he knew what hit him, Chris was doubled over, clutching the desk. He wondered what T'Shan would say about his display. The kid hadn't even been that funny.

After a gut-clenching eternity, he heaved in enough breath to choke through his laughter, "She's yours now, Jim."

The captain-to-be was suddenly serious. "Sir, I—"

Chris was instantly irritated. "Are we really gonna go through this again, kid? She's _yours_."

The boy refused to quit.

"But you're here, so you're doing pretty okay, right?" He gave a vague wave in Chris's general direction. " I mean, you're… close"

The older man knew he wasn't the target of those flailing hands. Sleek black crutches leaned within easy reach against the wall behind his desk.

"Close only counts in hand grenades and horseshoes. Command doesn't tend to like 'close' commanding their starships."

Jim managed a mutinous scowl in response. Obviously a subject change was in order.

"How's the choosing coming along," Chris asked. No list of crew members had been in the report. He watched his replacement rearrange the frown into something that might pass for a smile in a horror vid.

"I–. Well, I decided to just go with what I had, you know?" the kid said, full of false cheer. "The guy before me seemed to know what he was doing. No sense in messing with something that worked, right?" Another wink, tacked onto the end of the sentence, didn't ring any truer than his grin.

Pike eyed him shrewdly. There was more to the story, he could tell. But he wasn't sure whether to approve of Jim's discretion, or condemn of his shiftiness.

"What about a first officer? Last I heard, the one you had was unavailable."

"Yeah, well." Kirk shifted uncomfortably. "I've still got time."

"Not a whole lot, son," Chris said, not without sympathy. "They'll be making it official soon."

Pike knew damned well this had to be about more than just keeping something of the Enterprise he'd built intact, or even about making changes to the team that had managed to save what was left of the Federation . But he wasn't a mind reader and Jim had always been the most independent of his kids.

In many ways, even Spock was less closed off than the young man with the easy smiles and the smart mouth. It was because he needed to prove his worth, Chris knew. Jim had never quite gotten over the feeling that he didn't measure up to a man kids still read about in the history books. That he never _could_ measure up.

His captain's faith in him during the Vulcan disaster had barely dented Kirk's sense that others found him wanting. Not even an early captaincy of his own had erased it. Jim was smart enough to figure out what Command was up to.

Chris's stomach clenched as the silence stretched on. This was exactly the kind of thing T'Shan claimed hindered his recovery.

_This need to protect them still consumes you. If you wish to expedite your recovery, you must allow them the freedom to live as they wish._

_You are not in charge of their futures, Christopher. It is unreasonable to hold yourself accountable for the consequences of their choices. _

Chris didn't understand why Jim wouldn't choose a new XO, but he was sure of who was at the root of the problem. He didn't need telepathy to know the kid hadn't told him everything about went down on Delta Vega. Just like he didn't need a Level-15 security clearance to see that a nameless elderly Vulcan looked him with familiar eyes.

"Jim," he began, quietly, cautiously, "Spock had a choice to make. I'm not saying it was easy, or even that it was _right_… Imagine you had to choose between all your career and your people. Imagine it was you."

Kirk shoved out of his seat, the movement jerky, his posture rigid. Closed off. He raked a hand through his hair, then brought it round again to rub at the set lines of his face. He muttered something Chris couldn't quite catch.

"Come again."

"They didn't choose." His chest heaved as he spun around and fell silent.

"Son?"

"My parents. They didn't choose between each other and Starfleet."

"Things are different now, Jim."

"I know. I'm just saying… my parents chose both." The tension flowed out of him all at once, like air rushing out of a punctured balloon. "She always says they were happy."

Pike nodded, even though the kid was looking in his direction anymore.

"George Kirk was a good man."

"Yeah. Well, you know what they say about great men…"

"Sit down!" Jim sat and, folding his hands atop the desk, Chris started over. "I said 'good.' Your dad was also a 'great man,' but that's not what I meant. He was a good man who loved his family."

"Like you said, things are different now."

"That's right. Duty and desire can't mix for everyone."

"Lucky it does for some of us." Jim shrugged. His rueful grin was patently forced. "Not that Spock's granny is Starfleet."

Chris didn't bother commenting on the dig, but stared at him for a long time before finding what he thought were the right words.

"Things are different for him, too, son."

"I know."

"For him, it is only about family. His people… there aren't many of them left."

_How does a face soften and look pained at the same time?_ Pike wondered.

"Chris," Kirk said, his voice sounding for all the universe like a captain's while his face projected a young boy's disappointment, "I _know_."

.

.

T'Shan extinguished the asenoi and looked up at the young woman kneeling on the floor across from her.

"You no longer need me." She was aware that her words would disappoint the human. But the truth should not be ignored. "You are adept enough now to do this on your own."

"I know," Lieutenant Uhura said. Her gaze remained steady. Her posture was still well composed, but at ease. "I'd still like to come see you. When I have time. If you don't mind. I need... I'd still like to come."

It was easy to guess the reason behind her plea. When she had first visited, requesting assistance in improving her meditative facility, Uhura had freely admitted she sought greater a level of emotional control. She wanted Spock to be able to make his choice with an equanimity uninfluenced by her own desires.

At the beginning of their first session, however, T'Shan had realized that what the other woman lacked was not skill. Rather she wanted the determination to employ what she already knew.

Although Nyota Uhura was a novice practitioner of Preksha meditation according to the standards of the ancient, but largely forsaken, doctrine the humans called Jainism, she was proficient enough in the system's methods to recognize — in spite of the differences in technique — its similarity to the Vulcan tradition. Adapting a another methodology, while by no means simple, had been an attainable goal.

An equal amount of the time they spent together had been devoted to establishing the will Uhura required.

Time spent discussing Vulcan customs. Time used to talk about Spock. Time contemplating what might be expected of the remainder of his people.

"I will make the tea," T'Shan told her. Just as she did every day.

.

.

Chris didn't recognize the powerbike wedged into the narrow space between his driveway and the neighbor's hedge. Of course, he was early. Perhaps the mystery rider wasn't there to see him, after all. It shouldn't be surprising that she might receive visitors during the hours he spent away from the house. Their agreement didn't require her to live in isolation.

Whoever owned it had been considerate enough to leave enough room for him to exit his vehicle with either the chair or the crutches. Someone he knew, then. Or at least someone who knew of him and his condition.

He pressed the control that unsealed the hovercar's door, then another that lowered his chair to the ground. The scene with Kirk had left him uncommonly tired. It seemed that his Vulcan nursemaid was right. Again.

Shaking his head at the uncharitable thought — he blamed it on the unexpected exhaustion, Pike swung himself down into the chair. In spite of her warnings, he'd been getting stronger every day since getting kicked out of the medical center. And that was due to her patient tenacity.

"_I can't help you any further, Chris." He smiled cheerily as if he was delivering good news. Then again, Tom always looked cheery. "Whatever T'Shan's doing is working. Any of the exercises you still do with me can be done at home, or you can still come in as an outpatient._ _Starfleet will cover any adaptations your house might need. And, well, we could use the extra bed, Chris."_

The chair rolled silently over the walkway and up the temporary ramp that had been carefully attached to the back deck of his home. He'd been both grateful and proud that the sale of his biological father's holding had garnered enough credits for him to afford the small house just outside of the city. He would be even more thankful when he could return it to its former state.

Two familiar figures sat at the table, heads bent together, when he looked through the kitchen window. One spoke while the hovered over a hot drink. Chris felt his breath catch. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised at the sight, but he was.

They both looked his way as he eased the door open. The younger woman quickly pushed back her chair to stand at attention.

"At ease, Lieutenant Uhura," he said. "We're not on duty."

* * *

**A/N:** Preksha Meditation is relatively new to the Jain tradition, not having been developed until the 1970s. However, I think its goals closely match that of Vulcan meditation.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, any of its characters, and T'Shan is solely the creation of the fic writer known as Aphrodite420.


End file.
